


broken strings

by mushmin



Category: Dreamcatcher (Korea Band)
Genre: F/M, Forced Relationship, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 08:11:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12250455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mushmin/pseuds/mushmin
Summary: how is it possible to die a little everytime he touches her, even though he already took all the life from her the first time?





	broken strings

**Author's Note:**

> I'M SO SORRY THIS IS BARELY DREAMCATCHER I DON'T KNOW WHY I MADE IT LIKE THIS.

It begins because it must. Because like all things, nothing can just end. 

But at least, she thinks, it begins slowly enough. It feels like she's being allowed to rest, lures her into this terribly real false sense of security, convinces her that the teeth ripping into the back of her neck are meant to be there and she's the only variable in the equation. 

Fingers dig into her shoulders and she mistakes them for knives, nails blunted but somehow still so _sharp_ , somehow she still bleeds but maybe it's not blood, she thinks. 

Maybe she's a rose, her petals pressed by those hands, and her essence mixed with tears turn to rose water escaping her. Maybe it's better that way, and as desperately as she wants to keep everything inside of herself maybe it's better for everyone if she isn't allowed to.

It would be best for everyone if she wasn't allowed to want it. 

When Yoohyeon is left wanting, she blooms, she flowers into brilliance and she isn't allowed to be brilliant when there is a jaw snapped around her neck and blades slicing through the thin fabric of her dress, leaving phantom scratches that she chases with the pads of her fingers to remind herself that _she cannot._

She is not allowed to be brilliant, and maybe that's a good thing. She's terrified, if she shone, if she became everything she could be, _his_ hands would grow that much more insistent. 

She can already feel his heat tracing from the junction between her shoulder and neck, down to the hem of her skirt, and then his blunt nails would sharpen once again and he would tear his way through and she is terrified. 

She is terrified, fuck, she is petrified, she doesn't think she's mobile enough for even her lungs to expand, she's spent her time wondering how her thoughts have enough space to circulate in her frozen head as he plows through her like she is only a poor replacement for someone worth caring for. 

Her body is a broken violin--he runs his fingers over her out of tune strings until he tires and cuts them. 

After all, she's never made good enough noises for him. 

When she goes home, she feels his arm around her shoulder, fingers leaving bruises and opening old wounds, but she smiles and tells her parents, _Yes, I'm sure. I love him._

And she realizes, she thinks much more now, confined as she is by his stifling desire, than she ever did before he pressed her into a bed for the first time. 

She's terrified, and then she feels his lips pressed against the top of her head as her father turns to leave the room, feels his whispered "I love you" displacing the strands of hair, and suddenly, every thought leaves her mind except the image of her mother's proud smile as she watches the exchange. 

And then another, minutes later as they bow before her parents, the words tinged with happiness as they escape her father's lips: 

"You may take our Yoohyeon's hand in marriage." The man who raised her, who protected her, who comforted her during thunderstorms and told her to stay safe from the predators who stalk the streets of Seoul says. "Be good to her." 

And then the man beside her bows deeper, stands upright and snakes his hand around her waist like he owns her and now, she can't be terrified. 

Because for the first time, he's right.


End file.
